She didn't know. She wasn't sure anymore. He'd clouded her mind along with her senses. She tried to articulate every objection she had, but somehow they'd scattered and she couldn't seem to catch hold of one that sounded logical. The only thing that stood out was the danger of being seen.
She raised her head and looked frantically toward the house. “But Anatole...” she warned breathlessly.
“Is gone,” he supplied. “He went into town to pick up some produce. I saw him drive off half an hour ago.”
That meant they were all alone on a huge estate, no neighbors, no intruders of any kind, for miles. There was no one to save her.
“Rick, oh Rick,” she moaned as he pulled her closer, holding her to his broad chest. “No!”
“Yes,” he countered huskily. “Trust me, Terry. I'd never do anything to hurt you.”
That was a promise impossible to keep and she knew it. Of course he wouldn't hurt her physically, she'd never doubted that. But there were other ways a woman could be hurt, and she'd been so sure she could protect herself from them if she were only strong.
What had happened to her? No man had ever made her crumble so easily. Even with Craig, the physical side of their relationship had come about after logical discussions and measured determinations of the risks involved. It had been like a business deal. You take so much and I promise to give this in return. Never, never had she been swept away by a man's effect on her body before.
Something about Rick Carrington blinded her. He had a magic about him, a sense of sensual command that jerked her around like a puppet on strings. He had only to smile, to raise an eyebrow, to turn down the comer of his mouth, and she responded immediately.
Just as she responded now. His kiss was taut and tender. She could feel the barely controlled passion surging in him. His arms tightened around her and she gasped as the electric charge ignited the fire smoldering inside her, a fire that had never burned so brightly before. She wanted him. She needed him as she'd never needed anything before. He was hungry and he was male and he was hers ... for the moment.
The buttons of her blouse presented no particular problem to Rick. Before she realized what he was doing, he'd pushed the cotton cloth away and was gazing at her full breasts, the dark nipples straining beneath the lace of her bra.
The pleasure she felt at his enjoyment was something new. Just watching his face as he filled his gaze with her body sent a warmth opening inside her. She found herself arching above him, giving him everything, presenting herself to him as though bestowing a gift.
“You're beautiful,” he whispered, reaching for her. His hands burned through the flimsy cloth and she moaned, forgetting everything, becoming all instinct, all sensation.
And then a small, single-engined airplane came over them, flying low.
Rick heard it first. She felt him stiffen, and when he pulled away, she moaned, reluctant to lose him. He planted a quick kiss on her soft mouth and hugged her close.
“Time out to wave to the airplane,” he growled near her ear and she jumped up, realizing at last that they had company.
And then realizing what they had almost done. She trembled from the shock. This was crazy. She was crazy. He felt her shuddering and he pulled her close against him with an arm around her shoulders.
“Just a few minutes,” he murmured into her thick black hair. “Don't leave me.”
She didn't want to leave him, and but she had to. She was a butler. What was she doing making love to the master of the house?
But Rick's attention had wandered. Eyes shaded by his hand, he was looking up at the noisy airplane. “Look at that,” he said slowly. “It's carrying a banner with something written on it.”
They both stared at the sky until the full banner came into view. “Cheers,” it said.
“Cheers?” They looked at each other, frowning, then back up at the airplane. It circled the estate and came back over. They could see the pilot waving from the cockpit.
“Johnny,” Rick said, and a grin began to spread across his face. “I'm sure it's Johnny.”
The plane began to fly off and the grin faded. “Hey, wait a minute,” he called after it. “Where's the rest? No sky diver? No naked woman from the clouds?”
Terry pulled out of the circle of his arm and glared at him. “You seem to have naked women on the brain,” she grumbled, pulling herself together.
“Not 'women,'” he amended quickly, stopping her with hands on each of her shoulders. “Just one special woman.” His smile was as warm and enticing as ever.
But she was immune now. She'd had one fast inoculation and she didn't want the disease. She could put things into perspective now. A naked sky diver, the handy butler, it was all the same to Rick. What a fool she was.
“Let go of me, Mr. Carrington,” she said evenly, eyes flashing. “Let go of me or I'll have you up on charges of sexual harassment.”
For some reason, that shaft found its mark. His eyes clouded and his hands dropped away. He didn't say another word, and she marched back across the patio and into the house before she began to shake all over.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady herself. What on earth had come over her? That wasn’t her, that insane woman who’d fallen for Rick Carrington just now. Some imposter had come in and taken her place. Or at least, stolen her brain for the moment.
She could have ruined everything. She could have destroyed everything, right there, next to the pool. She clenched her jaw held back the cry of impotent rage that filled her. No! Never again!
Rick had never been much of a drinker. Though he had a reputation for being a playboy, the grist for that mill had all come from being seen with so many lovely ladies. On the whole, he drank sparingly. But that afternoon, sitting out on the veranda, he needed a drink, and he needed it badly.
He might as well face it—he was a complete idiot with women. He was totally off center with Terry. He couldn’t seem to find the balance, the point at which they could have a normal bit of give and take. Something was always throwing him off. He just didn’t get women. That had to be it.
He’d been just as bad with Claire. He’d thought he loved her and he’d thought she loved him. When she left him, it was like he’d stepped off the planet into an anti-matter state. That was when the numbness had begun to grow. It only got worse when she took the children and went across the country to live.
And then—a miracle. After over a year apart, he’d gone to see her. And once they were together again, once they’d talked, that old feeling began to hint at a comeback. All the worries and resentments that had pulled them apart didn’t seem so important any longer. Their love had crept out like a green sprout into the sunshine. And it had begun to grow.
Within weeks, that was over. She was suddenly diagnosed with leukemia. In no time at all, she was gone. Just when he’d found her again, she’d slipped away.
The children should have been his salvation, his redemption. But there seemed to be a wall between them, a barrier he just couldn’t find a way to break through. Closeness that should have been just hadn’t happened. And now he was afraid it never would.
So he’d tried to find some comfort with the butler. Was he insane? He'd made another horrible mistake. He hadn't meant to try a classically overbearing seduction out by the swimming pool. It wasn't his usual style. But there it was.
Rick stared moodily into his drink and frowned. He was letting this woman get to him. He watched her as she walked by with clippers in her hand, on her way to cut some roses. She cast a disapproving look at the gin and tonic in his hand, but she didn't say anything, and he watched her in silence, trying to keep things objective.
He'd seen better legs, he told himself. More beautiful hair, certainly. Even a prettier face or two.
Beginning to feel a little better, he straightened and watched her go in among the thorny plants. She looked like any other woman from where he was sitting. What was he worried about? She wasn't so special. He would run into town tonigh
t and meet someone else and forget all about her.
Then, in the midst of the rose garden, she turned, her attention caught by a lovely birdcall coming from the woods nearby. Sunlight shone on her dark hair and her white teeth flashed in a fresh smile as she listened to the bird's song—and Rick felt something twist in his chest.
He swore viciously. There it was again. Certainly there were prettier women in the world. Smarter. Sexier. But none of that mattered. There was something about her, something that got under his skin, something he couldn't control.
Probably the best thing for him would be to leave.
He mused over that idea for a few moments. Aunt Julia could certainly handle things around here. Why not take off? Spend a few weeks in Acapulco, maybe take a cruise. What was he doing here, anyway? What was he trying to prove to his grandfather?
He should have proved everything he needed to over the last few years, with the way he'd taken hold of the business.
But that was only one side of things, and he knew it. There was another, a social side. After all the foolish stunts he'd pulled in his life, he wanted his grandfather to see that he was a worthy successor to the Carrington name in the social arena as well. Having everything perfect when the old man arrived was important to him.
The sound of heels hitting tiles drew his attention. Terry was back. She plopped down in the chair across the table from him in a most un-butler-like manner.
“We have to talk,” she said, leaning over the table and staring at him with a determined look in her eyes.
“Oh, no,” he groaned, making no attempt to make her feel welcome. “I feel a lecture coming on.”
“And that's exactly what you deserve.” Terry wished he didn't look so good. She wanted to touch him, to soothe his worried brow with her cool hand. She'd never considered herself much of a motherly type, but something in this man drew out nurturing instincts she'd never known she had. Sometimes he looked like his son Jeremy, only grown up, and without the koala bear.
But that was just the problem, really. He belonged to a whole different ethic than she. In some ways he was just a little boy, only bigger. He thought he could have his cake and eat it too.
She couldn't forget what had happened out at the pool. Not the fact that he'd so nearly seduced her—-that was scary, but not surprising, really. What bothered her most was that he'd been able to shift gears so quickly from mad passion to wondering what Johnny was throwing down out of the sky for his birthday present. There didn't seem to be much depth to the man. He didn't really care. It was all fun and games to him.
But life was much more serious to her. She hadn't grown up with his advantages. She'd known times when the wolf was at the door, and she'd known times when she'd needed her dignity. She couldn't forget that, either.
“What happened out there by the pool can't happen again,” she told him evenly. “It wasn't fair.” She took a deep breath. “After all, I am a woman. And you're a very attractive man. I don't deny I find you ... compelling. This is a dangerous situation. We've got to stay away from each other.”
“I don't agree,” he said softly, his gaze skimming over the curve of her cheek.
She bit her lip. “I don't care whether you agree or not. That's the way it has to be.” She lowered her voice, leaning closer. “We can't be lovers.”
His eyes were dark and unreadable, and though his tone was light, she had a feeling he was covering a deeper emotion. “We can be friends, can't we?” he asked, raising his drink to her.
She stared at him, slowly shaking her head. “No. We can't.” She rolled her eyes heavenward and sighed. “How am I going to get this through your thick skull? You are the employer,” she said, using hand gestures to emphasize her point. “I am the employee. You're the master. I'm the servant. We've got to keep those roles clearly defined or we'll both be in trouble.”
She looked at him sharply, wanting to see if her argument had sunk in, but once again his attention seemed to have drifted. He was staring at the glass in his hand. “Cheers,” he repeated softly.
“What?”
“Cheers,” he repeated more loudly. “Of course! It was a clue!”
When she still stared at him blankly he thrust his glass toward her. “What does 'cheers' make you think of?” he demanded.
She shrugged. “It's a drinking toast.”
“Exactly.” Putting down his glass, he rose and grabbed her hand. “Come on. Johnny was giving me a clue. I know my birthday present is around here somewhere. Let's check out the bar.”
Terry followed along, intrigued enough to ignore the fact that he was still holding her hand. Once again he was mixing serious subjects with fluff. But that was just the way he was, and she didn't really need to try to change him, as long as he didn't consider her part of it all.
“If it's another naked girl, I'm quitting,” she grumbled.
Rick stood back against the solid wall of mirror that backed the huge wet bar and began to look through the shelves. “You look through the bottles,” he told her. “There's got to be something here somewhere.”
A ten-minute search revealed nothing at all.
“I guess you were wrong,” Terry said at last, partially relieved for some unknown reason.
Rick frowned thoughtfully. “The wine cellar,” he said, winking at her. And before she knew what was happening, they were flying down the stairs, hand in hand once again.
Terry cried out in dismay when she saw how huge the dark, dusty room was. “We could spend the rest of the day-—and the night—in here and not find a thing,” she complained.
“Ah, but think of the memories we could accumulate,” he teased, touching her cheek.
She shook away his hand. “I should be upstairs seeing to dinner,” she said.
He shook his head. “Anatole will take care of dinner.”
“Are you even staying for dinner?” she asked. “I mean, it's your birthday. Surely you have something planned with friends. ...”
He was looking through the drawer of the little wine cellar desk. “I did at one time, actually. A bunch of friends over at the country club invited me to a little bash they wanted to throw in my honor.” He closed the drawer and rose to smile at her. “But I canceled all plans and told my friends I had to break in the new butler.” He caught hold of her before she could put more distance between them.
“Hello there, new butler.” His voice was soft and smooth as velvet and she almost yielded as his lips brushed hers. But she managed to break away, slipping from his grasp and walking past a long row of bottles.
“This is exactly what your problem is,” she lectured as she went. “You can't keep your mind on what you're doing.”
“That's where you're wrong,” he returned cheerfully, walking down the other side of the row. “I have my priorities strictly in mind. It's just that they don't happen to be what you think they are.” He stuck his head around the end of the row just as she reached it, grinning at her. “Number one, with me, is having you.”
Despite his arrogant sexism, she had to laugh. “Let's look for the clue,” she reprimanded him. “Oh, look at this.” She reached for a bottle that was hanging from a string at the end of the row. “A ship in a bottle. How do they do that?”
“Let me see.” Rick took it from her hand. “I've never seen this before.” He held it up to the light. “Dust-free,” he mused. “It hasn't been here long.”
“What does it say on the little flag flying from the main mast?”
Rick held it closer and deciphered the tiny letters. “ 'Good on ya', bloke!'” He grinned. “This is it, for sure. Johnny fancies himself a born-again Australian. It's his favorite country after the good old U.S.A.” Rick put on his best John Wayne voice and swagger. “He likes places where a man can be a man.”
“Is this it, then? Is this the present?”
“No, of course not. There's nothing lewd or suggestive here at all.”
Terry hid her smile. “Johnny's presents are always a little blue
?”
“Certainly. What good is a cousin if he doesn't introduce you to the more sordid side of life?” He squinted at the boat in the bottle. “There must be another lead in here, something we haven't noticed.”
Terry sighed. “Maybe he wants you to go to Australia with him.”
Rick shook his head. “Too straightforward,” he murmured. He held the bottle up for her to see, “What do you make of the name of the ship?” he asked. “Think Australian.”
She stared hard. The letters were very small. “ 'R.D.D. —Three Men’, I think. That's an odd name for a ship.”
Rick nodded slowly. “It means something. I'm sure of it.”
Terry frowned thoughtfully. “Yes,” she said slowly. “But what? Roundabout Dingo Dogs?”
He made a face. “Royal Dutch Dingys?”
She shook her head. “Radical Dang Didgeridoo?” she tried, then winced when he groaned.
Half an hour later, they were still guessing. They'd climbed back up from the depths of the wine cellar and were once again sitting on the veranda, staring at the bottle. Rick was on the verge of tearing his hair out with frustration.
“Can't you think of any more nautical terms thatmight apply?” Terry asked wearily, her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands.
“I can think of a few appropriate applications for 'frigate' at the moment,” Rick muttered darkly. “When I get my hands on Johnny ...”
“ 'R.D.D.—Three Men,'” she repeated, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back. “ 'R.D.D.—'” Her eyes flew open. “ 'Rub-a-dub-dub, three men in a tub,'” she cried jubilantly. “That's got to be it!”
Rick jumped up and pulled her to her feet, laughing with her. “Not only are you a great butler,” he cried back, “you're smart too. Let's go. There are twelve bathrooms in this house, nine with tubs. I'll take the second floor, you concentrate down here.”
In his hurry, he didn't notice how she'd reacted to what he'd said. A great butler, was she? Should she consider this a sign that he didn’t need a meeting to decide if she was good enough to stay? She smiled to herself as she began to search the first bathroom. She should have had a tape recorder running. She just might need this endorsement to bolster her case later on.
Promoted to Wife (Destiny Bay) Page 8
